


heat

by sospes



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:03:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sospes/pseuds/sospes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili is possessive. Fili is more than willing to take advantage of the fact. Fili/Kili.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on _The Hobbit_ kink meme on LJ.

Sweat drips in Fili’s eyes, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. The braids around his face are sodden, the rest of his hair not much better, and his shirt clings slickly to his chest – as if the damn thing wasn’t tight enough already. It’s too old and too small—he’s already had to tear the sleeves off to allow him the freedom to swing a hammer—but, to be honest, he’s not complaining. He sees the way Kili looks at him when he tugs it on in the morning, that flicker of heat in his eyes, and that’s a look Fili likes to encourage. It inevitably ends well for him. 

Kili nudges his shoulder, hands him a mug of water. “You need a wash,” he says. 

Fili takes the mug, sets it to one side. The forge is achingly hot, and he grasps the hammer tight in his hand. “That’s because I’ve been working,” he answers, “not prancing around the market all morning.” 

“It’s a hard job,” Kili answers. “Someone has to do it.”

“I’m sure,” Fili answers, and continues, “Orin came by. He needs a set of pots as soon as I can get them done.” He adjusts the glowing metal on the anvil, thinks about shaping and the angle of the blow. 

Kili leans against the doorframe, arms folded. There are tiny braids running back over his ears: he’s trying out something new, Fili knows, but the braids are unravelling already. “Orin?” he asks.

Fili nods his agreement, and swings the hammer down. A smooth curve is starting to show itself in the red-hot metal, and Fili feels swell of satisfaction beginning in his belly. 

“He was here to get his ponies shoed three days ago.” 

Fili knows what Kili’s getting at, and he looks at his brother pointedly. “He likes our prices,” he explains slowly, “and the quality of the work.”

There’s a stubborn set to Kili’s lips. Fili tries not to smile. “He likes the way you wear that shirt,” he counters, and there’s that fire in his eyes Fili loves. “And the way you look with sweat running down your neck.” 

Fili swipes at his neck with the shoulder of his shirt: it’s damp enough already. “No, Kili,” he says, slow and patronising, as if addressing a young dwarfling, “that’s what _you_ like.”

His brother isn’t laughing, but they’re spared an argument by the opening of the door. “Get that, would you?” Fili says lightly, and turns back to the pot beginning to take shape beneath his hammer. The din of his work drown out any attempt Kili might make at quiet conversation, and his brother sulks away. Fili gives up trying to hide his grin, and as sparks fly he lets himself smile: he’d never admit it even to himself, but he loves it when Kili gets like this, possessive, domineering. 

“Fili,” he hears his brother call after a moment, all business, and he looks back over his shoulder. “Where did you put Mim’s knives?” 

Fili wipes sweat from his forehead, and replies, “In the back, next to that old anvil of Nain’s. They’re in a box, I think. Want me to go get them?” 

“I’ll go,” Kili answers, and a mischievous smile his touches lips. “Can’t have you dripping sweat everywhere.”

He ducks into the back room before Fili has a chance to answer, and he sighs pointedly before smiling at Mim. He’s a regular, always in with odds and ends that need fixing up, and Fili says, “Sorry they took so long. We’ve got a bit of a backlog at the moment.”

“It’s no problem,” Mim says. “I’ve got plenty more – I don’t really need them that much. I just like stopping by.” And his eyes _gleam_. 

_ah, kili,_ Fili thinks, and forces himself to contain the ear-splitting grin that’s threatening to crack his lips. “Well,” he says, “you’re always more than welcome.” – and just as Kili is clattering his way out of the back room with a handful of mended knives, Fili reaches for the mug of water his brother gave him half a moment ago, never losing eye contact with their customer. He drinks slowly, letting water spill down his chin and drip down his neck, and Mim’s eyes sparkle. Fili finishes the water, looks away, puts the mug down. Just to add a little something, he flexes his biceps as he retrieves his hammer and turns back to work. 

He can feel Kili’s gaze burning into the back of his neck, and he can’t help but smile. He hasn’t flirted with anyone who isn’t Kili that obviously, that ostentatiously for a long time. 

His brother deals with Mim in four minutes flat—Fili knows, he counted—and then over his hammering Fili can hear the door being shut and the bolts sliding home. Kili’s footsteps are heavy and quick, and then the hammer is being wrenched out of his hand and there’s a hand on his shoulder dragging him away from the forge, dragging him upstairs and into their rooms. 

Their door slams shut behind them and Kili is suddenly everywhere, pressed up against his back, arms around his chest and a hand in his hair, pulling his head back. A spark of arousal floods through him, and he forces back a sharp gasp. “Do you think that’s funny?” Kili hisses in his ear, his fingertips flexing in the damp fabric of Fili’s shirt. “Flirting like that? Winding me up?”

“Actually,” Fili answers, voice raspy already, “yeah, it really is.” 

Kili nips at his earlobe, bites down on the side of his neck. Fili groans, reaches for his brother – but then Kili’s hands are tight around his wrists, holding him still. “You drive me crazy,” Kili whispers, scrapes his teeth over Fili’s racing pulse. 

“Likewise,” Fili grinds out, and then Kili is spinning him round and kissing him fiercely, all teeth and tongue, biting at his lips, fingers dug deep into his biceps, still slick with sweat. Kili pulls away, eyes blazing, sucks a bruise onto his neck, kisses him again – and before Fili really knows what’s happening Kili is fumbling with his trousers and _oh_ , his brother’s hand is warm and sweaty. It doesn’t take long – four, five strokes and Fili is coming inside his clothes, gasping hotly against his brother’s lips. 

“Mine,” Kili growls in his ear, and if Fili were more in control of his senses he would gasp _yes, yours, forever_ in response – and then Kili’s touch softens abruptly, his fingertips stroking across Fili’s skin, smooth his sweat-soaked braids out of his face. He kisses Fili, gentle and soft, and the tension has gone, flooding out of his body in that rush of frantic need. 

Fili gets his breath back, and says, “I love you.” 

Kili’s eyes are laughing. “I know,” he says, and smiles.


End file.
